by Amy Faye
"Don't talk like that," he said.
Her skin hurt. His cock moved inside her and multiplied the feeling in her face, turning it into something that wasn't quite pain, no matter how much it should have been. She was his slut.
"Why don't you try to make me stop, then, you limp-dick old ma--"
She got most of the way through the word by the time he grabbed her hips and drove himself home, hitting something deep inside her and making her see stars. Her body shuddered and shook, and she felt him moving inside her like it was someone else's body entirely.
She was already gone by the time he pulled back, slammed home again, only to start moving out again. Diana felt her pussy pull his manhood back inside, but he pulled too hard, no matter how much she wanted him to stay. No matter how much her body wanted him to stay.
Then he thought better of it, and slammed home again. The truck springs creaked under them as he moved, starting to pick up a rhythm, pick up speed. He seemed to grow more desperate with every thrust, and the way that his hand clamped down around her throat seemed to suggest that he blamed her for that desperation.
If she didn't know better, if she hadn't tried so hard to make it happen, then someone might have thought it was abusive, violent, hateful. It was all of those things and more, and by God did Diana love it.
She had a dim smile on her face, broken up when her mouth opened to allow out a loud, hoarse moan. Her throat hurt, her chest hurt, and her face hurt as he slapped her. Her eyes went black for an instant, the pain shutting off her vision for a fraction of an instant.
They came back on as his fingers pushed between her teeth, into her mouth. He fucked it with his thick, long fingers, in a rhythm that punctuated the rhythm of his cock pushing into her, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. She sucked on his fingers greedily, as if her life depended on it. In her imagination, it did. She knew what he was capable of, knew that he could have killed her a thousand times already today.
If he wanted to, there would be a thousand more occasions. Any time he wanted her dead, she would be, and the more that she pleased him now, the less likely it was. The thought only made her adrenaline pump harder, and that only served to mix in more with the heady, amazing cocktail of chemicals mixing in her brain, accentuated every couple of seconds by his cock slamming into her.
"Inside?" he asked. She didn't need to ask what he meant. She nodded vigorously around his fingers, desperate for what he was going to give her. Desperate for the feelings to continue, but knowing that when he finally pushed all the way into her one more time, and filled her with his seed, she was going to go over the edge again, as hard as ever.
He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and slapped her again, the burning sting returning to her face just in time for his cock to slam into her, hard, and the whole thing filled her mind with a sort of hazy pleasure. Her vision wasn't gone; she could see just fine, but it was someone else's vision.
She just felt that woman's pleasure as he pushed into her all the way, his hips pressed hard into her pelvis, mated perfectly like they were built to be in this position. Then he let out a grunt, hard and low, and put his weight down on her throat a little bit as she felt him spurting inside her. Once, twice, three times. The warmth spread through her quickly, like she was drunk on his cum.
His weight lifted off her, and she let in a breath, over-rich with oxygen, that prolonged her pleasure, prolonged the orgasm that had seemed to go on forever near the end. Then he pulled out, twitching inside her as he did.
She could hear the sound of his pants zipping, could feel the truck's suspension shifting as his weight moved.
She expected that he was getting out; it made sense. Nobody, not even her, really wanted to hang out in the back of a truck. But her legs weren't moving properly. In a few seconds, she tried again. They moved, alright. But not the way that she expected. They moved strangely, as if she were controlling someone else's body. She felt him dribbling out of her, and her eyes slowly opened.
As her vision started to clear, she realized that something was moving under her, shifting her weight little by little until it was under her completely, and then she started to move up, and pressed against a man's wool suit. He pressed a kiss onto her forehead, turned, and slipped off the back of the truck.
The fact that she was naked didn't seem all that relevant, any more. She leaned her head against his chest.
"You okay?" he asked her, softly.
"As long as you promise to do that again in the morning," she said softly. He kissed her head again.
"You don't want it again tonight?" There was teasing in his voice. "I understand. It's been a long day. We're all tired."
She smiled and looked up at him for a minute, and then let out a long breath and laid back down. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. By the time that Alex laid her down in the bed upstairs, she'd already started.
30
Diana felt as if she'd been sleeping non-stop since everything had gone nuts the night before, but the thought of the danger they had faced the day before mixed with a wicked fullness in her bladder in agreement that she didn't want to face it asleep.
By the time that she stepped out of the bedroom, still wearing the clothes she'd been wearing the day before thanks to an altogether lack of clothing to change into, she was awake. The sound of voices below suggested that she should either go investigate, or pretend that she hadn't noticed them. When Alex stepped onto the upstairs landing as she stepped out of the bathroom, Diana's choice was made up for her.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hey yourself. Did you sleep much?"
He let out a long breath. He'd changed clothes and showered, which was better than nothing, she supposed, but it wasn't nearly good enough. She knew because she'd gone on the 'four hours of sleep, change of clothes and a cup of coffee' diet before, and it wasn't something that bore repeating.
Then, slowly, he shook his head. "Not much, no. I got a few hours, but... bigger things to worry about. Bigger concerns on the horizon."
"Yeah," Diana agreed. "You want to talk about it?"
"No," he told her. He gave her a pointed look and she got the distinct impression he was getting ready to say something she wasn't going to like.
"What?"
"You can't be here," he said finally. "We need you to get gone."
"'We' need you to?"
"You and I. I need you gone because you're a distraction and I can't afford to be distracted right now. You need to get yourself gone because I don't think either one of us wants you to get killed."
"Hey, man. I'm involved already. We're past that."
"And I'm saying that it's time to un-involve yourself. There's no shame in it. Just walk away. It'll be easy."
"Fuck you," she said, and pushed past him. She'd been sleeping so much that her body felt sluggish, but he'd slept so little that there was nothing in him capable of fighting back against her. "I'm staying, and that's final."
Cyanora was waiting for her below. It was an odd name, and not one that would have stood out in her mind except that it started with 'Cyan' and she was less of a cyan color, and more of an azure, as a dragon. She wondered whether or not the things were connected.
"Morning," Diana offered. The blue dragon, still looking like a perfectly voluptuous human woman, raised an eyebrow.
"Hey," the woman said to her. No, dragon. The dragon said to her.
"So what's the talk about?"
"Talk?"
"You and Alex. I heard the two of you, but I couldn't hear much more than, you know, that you two were talking. I can't imagine that every day is like yesterday, so there must be some next step. What's the talk?"
"The talk is, your father would kill me if I let anything happen to you. So we don't let anything happen to you, simple as that."
Diana bit back the comment that Dad would have trouble killing anyone, at that point; the effort left her open to the wave of sadness that hit her, hard and all at once, and let itself out of
her throat in the form of a low sob.
"Did you know him?"
"For a little while, yeah."
"I didn't see you at the funeral."
"We held our own little thing. It was, you know. What it was."
"So, are you going to tell me what I'm supposed to know about this? Horde? You tell me he had one, and that you guys are all fighting over it."
"I don't know," the woman said. She seemed tired. Deflated. For the first time it occurred to Diana that she seemed almost sad. It clapped up quickly, as she pushed herself back in the chair and leaned it back onto two legs. "But I know one thing. I'm not going to sit here and accept some big red coming into my territory and thinking he can fuck with me. That's not what I'm going to do."
"Okay," Diana agreed. "Seems like a good idea."
"Good idea? It's suicide. But I'm not going to go out looking like a little bitch. No way, no how."
"So... sorry, if this seems like a stupid question. But what if they had something to do with, you know, what happened to my Dad?"
The look that crossed Cyanora's otherworldly face wasn't one of surprise, but she did take on a far-away expression like she was thinking hard about it.
"That's a very good question," she said, finally. "But it's back to first principles, I guess. If he did it, it was for some reason. I don't know how much you were able to tell from the cabin. I've never been human. Why don't you tell me what you got out of it?"
"It looked the same as always. Then I left, and when I came back, it was on fire. That was new, I guess."
Cyanora got quiet, that same pinched expression, like there was something that she wasn't saying. Diana decided she didn't want to know what that could be. There were a thousand ideas that she could think of off-hand, and none of them were good. None of them would make her particularly happy. And if they weren't going to improve her day, she didn't want to think about them.
"So you didn't smell it, then?"
"Smell what? Alex asked the same thing."
A man's voice came from behind them. Alex may have looked tired, but he sounded in control. Wrapped a little tight, maybe, but it would do him some good. He was usually a little too loose.
"Smelled the magic. Oh, you'd have smelled it, and bad. Someone did something bad in there, with your father's body."
"With Dad's body?"
"Dragon's blood is a powerful thing to use, and the last few drops the most powerful of all. Someone wanted to do something big."
Diana's eyebrows screwed up in confusion, then her mouth opened to ask a question. She closed it again, thought a little more. Thought a little harder. The answer was obvious, of course. The whole thing had already been laid out in front of her, but all of the adrenaline and the shock had made it easy to pretend she just didn't know.
"You mean Dad was a dragon?"
"That's what I mean," Alex said. "Same as me and her, in a fashion. More me than her, of course, for multiple reasons that might be obvious."
"Please," Cyanorath said. Diana's head whipped around to look at her as she spoke. "The two of you had nothing in common."
"Nothing at all? Alright, if that's what you want to think."
Diana watched the female's face instead. She was bad at guarding her expression, presumably because she never needed to. It twisted up in frustration and anger.
"Go to hell," Diana finally said. "Are we going to figure out what to do next or are you just going to sit here and give me shit the whole time?"
"I figured we could do both," Alex offered. He took a seat at the head of the table, where he could look at both women at the same time. Diana looked over at him and frowned.
"Okay, but I thought dragons were immortal."
"I mean, kind of," Alex said.
"They can be killed, but it's hard."
"So what can kill one, then?"
"The list isn't terribly long. A particularly motivated human, for one. Another dragon. A particularly motivated creepy crawly of one of several other varieties, though as a rule they never get that motivated."
"No?"
"Not generally. Too busy with whatever the hell they do. Sucking blood or sucking dog-cocks or whatever the hell they do in their natural environment."
"'Sucking dog-cocks'? Seriously?"
"Hey, you know, I don't judge. I'm just saying. It's possible."
"Sure it is."
"So the way you figure it, it's either a human or it's a dragon?"
"Or both," Cyanora offered, breaking in. "A human working alongside a dragon."
"How likely is that?"
"You've practically got cum still dripping out of you, and you ask me that?"
Diana blushed and went stiff. Oh. So she'd heard that, huh? Alex shot her a look. The look shut her up, but it did surprisingly little to make Diana want to disappear any less.
"So, it's not unlikely, then?" Her voice sounded wooden and hollow but Diana was surprised she could speak.
"Not at all," Cyanora confirmed. "Even without the sex."
31
Alex Blume's opinion of Cyanora, an opinion that had been carefully formed on centuries of not particularly liking lightning drakes, an opinion that she had continually reinforced until yesterday, reverted to its default.
For one thing, she didn't know when she should just shut the fuck up, and for another, she'd upset Diana, which was another strike against her record regardless of what he might have thought of her type.
"So what do we know, then? We know that there's a stranger in town, and there apparently isn't room enough for the three of us."
"Well, the... lord. Six or seven of us. They were moving so damned fast that I don't even know."
Cyanora nodded. "The six of us, you're right. Though, somehow I doubt that losing his lackeys would hurt that big red one bit."
Diana spoke up. "I'm sorry, stupid question, and I know it's off-topic, but I have to wonder."
Alex looked at her blankly and waited.
"If my dad was a dragon, does that mean I'm a dragon, too?"
The two of them looked at each other. The thought had honestly crossed Alex's mind, earlier. Half-dragon, maybe. Or at least, she was a very dragonesque little human.
Cyanora looked at her, hard. "Doesn't mean anything if you were adopted."
"But you said yourself, he looked like me."
"I'm sure he did," the other dragon said, indifferent. "I can see the similarities. But that doesn't mean anything."
"No?"
"If he wanted to change his appearance that badly, it would have been easy."
"So I was adopted?"
Cyanora shrugged. Alex watched Diana's face. Watched it shift through a thousand emotions.
"So what color was he, then? I assume that's important."
"It's dead important. Color might as well be a damn family tree."
"Okay, so what color then? You might need DNA testing or something to decide my dad's really my dad, but you should be able to remember what color he was, right? If he was a dragon, like you're saying."
"Red," Cyanora said finally. "Aleroth was a red."
"So he's related to the big one."
"Right," Cyanora said. "He's related to the big one."
"So we can cross him off, then, right? It's his kin. Who would kill their own family?"
Alex was silent, and for once in her life, Cyanora was, too. Wisely silent. If there was any proof that Diana wasn't a dragon, or at least she'd never been among that society, that was the proof.
Humans care about their young. There are occasional stories of mothers, drowning their children. Always in a fit of madness, or killing someone else's children that they should have cared for.
Nobody ever just killed their kids for fun. Why would they? Dragons were about as sentimental as razor blades. They would kill for any number of reasons, and sport was certainly among them. Explaining that would be useless, because regardless of how much she might have wanted to understand, there was no way that Diana would.
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"Oh," Diana said, as if she got the meaning of their silence.
"It's possible that he didn't do it. It's very possible. It's just possible that he did do it, too. Don't, uh... look, it doesn't mean anything."
"I'm fine," Diana said. She was quiet, and she didn't sound fine, but then again, even after all this time, Alex still wasn't really sure that he understood her emotions, or anyone's.
"So let's pretend for a minute that we could assume it was him. You said something about magic. Can dragons do magic?"
It was entirely the wrong mood for it, but Alex couldn't help the laugh that ripped from his lungs. "Dragons are magic. Stem to stern. The whole fire thing? Or lightning, in some cases," he nodded at Cyanora. "That's raw-ass magic."
"And it stinks?"
"It has a smell, but no, most dragons don't tend to think it stinks."
"But this did?"
"Black magic, I guess. Dark. Unnatural."
"And dragons can do it?"
"They can, sure. But they generally don't."
"Why would they?" Cyanora offered. "Big, strong, fast, practically unkillable."
"So what's the next move?"
"We figure out what they wanted out of that spell. Figure out what your father died for."
Alex nodded. "You said it was wrapped up around me."
Cyanora nodded as well, confirming. Her eyes looked askance and she seemed to be thinking.
"So if I didn't cast any spells, and you're going to have to take that on faith, then what else could that mean?"
"You're the target," Cyanorath said simply. "That's all it could mean, really."
"Could it be they picked the target at random?"
"It could be that they cast a spell to make spaghetti and meatballs fall on the next person to walk out of LAX. But it's a big coincidence, to have picked the two outliers. The two pretending to be humans. And none else, far as I can tell."
There was more in common between them than just that, Alex thought sourly. There was a lot more. The idea immediately flashed through his mind, and he immediately pushed it away. There was a good chance that it was retaliation, twenty-five years distant, but he wasn't going to suggest that.
